


Other Things to Do

by dreamlittleyo



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, High School, POV Outsider, Pre-Canon, Wordcount: 100-1.000, Wordcount: 500-1.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-16
Updated: 2011-04-16
Packaged: 2017-10-18 04:58:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/185291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamlittleyo/pseuds/dreamlittleyo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Senior year, when a young man's mind turns to thoughts of college.<br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	Other Things to Do

Her name is Linda, and she's still new to the job. Hasn't been out of school long herself, and even with her degree she sometimes feels like she's faking it. Who the hell is _she_ to sit in this office and tell high school students what to do with their lives? She's barely figured it out for herself, and half the time they sit on the other side of her desk and look at her, and she thinks they just _have_ to know she's a phony.

Three years in, two graduating classes helped off to college, and she still feels new.

But reading this Winchester boy's file, she's got a feeling. Knows he's destined for big things.

There are transcripts from dozens of different schools, all of them partial and incomplete. Nothing But A's and B-pluses, and the whole of it is impressive to behold. He won't graduate valedictorian, but he'll come damn close. His PSAT score is high, his SAT even higher, and if there were an IQ score in the file she thinks maybe he'd be a genius.

She sent him a note last week, through the intra-school mail system, setting up an appointment. Today. Two o'clock. It's 1:56 now, and she's got a pile of college applications and brochures at the ready on her desk. Opportunity awaiting.

The knock at her door makes her jump, even though she's expecting it, and the head that pokes through from the hall wears an uncertain expression.

"Dean," she says, gesturing him in with a smile. "Please, sit down. I'm glad you could come."

He shrugs as he sits. She can tell it's not a dismissal. He just has nothing to say.

"You're probably wondering why I've called you down here."

"Nah," he says, and the answer surprises her. "I asked around. You're a guidance counselor. Not a trouble counselor. You probably want to tell me I should be taking harder classes or something."

"Or something," she concedes with a smile, and watches as his posture visibly relaxes. She watches him for a moment. His face is young. Freckled and pretty, with a teenager's cocky smirk fixed permanently in place. But his eyes are older, and _that_ she maybe wasn't expecting. He looks like he's trying to figure _her_ out, too.

"Your grades are excellent," she says, finally breaking the considering silence. "As are you SAT scores. Have you started considering colleges?"

He blinks at her. Wide, startled confusion. A response as far off the mark as any she might have predicted.

"You _are_ applying to colleges, Dean, aren't you?"

He's suddenly guarded, the easy slouch replaced with a deliberate façade as he shrugs. His eyes still drill sharp, and she fights the urge to fidget in her seat.

"I hadn't really thought about it," he says. She knows it's a lie. She doesn't call him on it.

"You have a lot of potential," she points out. Reasonable. "With your grades and test scores, you could go to any school in the country."

"I guess I should think about it, then." He's lying again.

"Dean," she says, and decides to go out on a hell of a limb. "Don't bullshit me."

The surprise on his face is priceless, but she presses right on, says, "You've clearly already decided not to do this."

"Yeah," he says. Fidgets his weight from one arm of the chair to the other. "Maybe I have. So?"

"Can I at least ask _why_?"

He closes off at the question. Completely. Like a garage door slamming shut. His gaze slides around her office; along the wall of family photos and cheesy inspirational posters. Everywhere but her when he says, "That's personal."

"If money's the problem, we can work around that," she says. "But I know money's not always the only factor."

"Look," he says, and suddenly he's standing. His eyes are bright and sure when they lock with hers. "I appreciate what you're trying to do here. Really. But you should be helping some other kid. One who _wants_ to go to college."

"You don't want to go to college, Dean?" she asks, because she doesn't believe him.

There might be a moment of sadness in his eyes, but she can't be sure. He doesn't pause, doesn't flinch, doesn't sound anything but completely certain when he says, "There are other things I need to do."

As he leaves, she thinks he maybe even looks like he knows what he's doing. She hopes like hell it's true.


End file.
